


and may you find happiness in endeavors of love, always

by furyspook



Series: there is time to have it all [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mech Preg, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 23:11:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12692136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furyspook/pseuds/furyspook
Summary: we're switching it up this time B))))





	and may you find happiness in endeavors of love, always

      From the moment he’d first suspected it Cyclonus had-- in true  _Cyclonus_  fashion --kept it to himself, either to avoid hurting himself and his minibot if his suspicion was false, or to avoid confronting the reality that he was still able to grow and experience after all this time. Regardless of his reasoning, when Cyclonus woke from his recharge feeling somehow _more_  than when he’d taken to the slab the night before he said nothing, seeing Tailgate off to the skydeck and roaming the halls in an attempt to look more aware of his surroundings than he felt. The warmth of Tailgate’s hand lingered in his own as his life’s warmth lingered against his spark. Cyclonus spent two days in this dissociative limbo, returning to the present in time to meet his partner at the end of the day and departing again when alone, pondering without a tether. 

      Tailgate had noticed his behavior, had commented on it, even, but Cyclonus wasn’t one to admit to uncertainty and the little blue bot dropped the subject just too soon to get his answer. 

      For a third morning Cyclonus seemed to careen through space with an overabundance of internal awareness and a head heavier than it had ever been before. This silent speculation was doing him no good, and with every day Tailgate seemed more persistent in his questioning, so with no small amount of anxiety Cyclonus paid a visit to the Lost Light’s medbay. 

      First Aid was surprised to see him, but happily ushered him onto one of the medical slabs. Were there more bots present Cyclonus was sure he would have left without explaining a thing, but as it stood he and the medical officer were alone, and as calmly as he could manage Cyclonus asked for a spark chamber scan. 

      When Cyclonus tracked Tailgate down again the minibot was at Swerve’s, seated at the bar between Rewind and Riptide with a bright purple glass clasped in his hands. His visor burned the same even, cheerful blue as it ever had, but Cyclonus nearly stopped dead in his tracks when those optics turned on him instead and Tailgate’s visor shone all the more brilliantly. Tailgate needn’t have waved him over, as the larger bot was already caught in his pull. 

      Cyclonus let his wrist be manipulated between two small white hands as they sought out the perfect slots for their fingers, listening to Tailgate’s account of Riptide’s story for as long as he could justify keeping the news to himself. 

      “I need to speak with you.” 

      There was an understanding that flashed in the light of his visor before Tailgate excused himself from his friends’ company, and he followed Cyclonus out of the bar without complaint. Likewise he followed Cyclonus back to their hab suite without question. 

      He was quiet still when the hab door slid shut behind him. 

      Looking down upon what had quickly become his world Cyclonus felt his words catch in his vocalizer and his spark warm his chest. For the first time in days that warmth wasn’t made unbearable by unknowing. 

      He reset his vocalizer and met optics with Tailgate who held his gaze unwaveringly, with the utmost bravery, wonderful optimism-- Cyclonus had never felt more strongly. The need to be close to that smaller frame was almost unbearable, but rather than touch Cyclonus bent to one knee, leaving Tailgate with an escape should he wish to do so. 

      “Tailgate, I’ve...” He paused to reassess his wording, “I’ve been to see First Aid.” 

      Cyclonus watched Tailgate cock his head to one side, confusion and the beginnings of concern visible in the way his visor shutters edged down into his line of sight. “Did something happen?” He asked. He raised his hands but stopped them before they could reach out to the larger bot. Cyclonus cursed himself. 

      “I am not unhealthy, Tailgate,” Cyclonus was relieved to see his words take instant effect, leaving the minibot looking worn but no longer afraid. “But he gave me news I think I’ve been expecting for a while now.” Curiosity-- now that it had replaced the fear --was a wonderful emotion, made more incredible by the way it played in Tailgate’s optics and the curl of his small fingers. Cyclonus struggled to find the words to explain just what he was experiencing despite having all of the terms in his recent memory. The clinical, straightforward way that First Aid had delivered the news to him that morning simply wasn’t enough.  _How_  to say that he was awed and relieved and excited for the first time in millennia without so many words? He wasn’t sure he had the strength. Tailgate still watched him, arms half-extended, visor bright, and he knew that he had to try. 

      “What I am is carrying.” 

      Tailgate’s hands which had, until that point, been hanging in the air before his chest came up to cover his faceplate, fingertips tapping restlessly while his processor raced to its conclusions. One thing was clear even before Tailgate was able to form the words: his visor radiated happiness. Cyclonus wasn’t sure how he’d expected Tailgate to react-- they’d prepared for this, talked it over, speculated about it a hundred times and in each instance Tailgate had been enthusiastic --but still relief washed through his lines and he welcomed the smaller into a tight hug. 

      Flush with his frame Tailgate cooed and jumped under his arms, head tucked against his chestplate as if he meant to feel the second spark for himself. Cyclonus chuckled, a deep rumble to meet Tailgate’s excited babbling at its higher pitch. Going on about  _frame types_  and  _designations_  as if they were merely months from the emergence. Interspersing praises and admissions of love between more ridiculous sentiments. Cyclonus hushed him with a level hand to his head, putting just enough space between their bodies to look him in the face. 

      Cyclonus brought his lips to the crest above his visor, his own optics dimming. While Tailgate still brimmed with energy the atmosphere dipped into something comfortable and warm. He loved kisses in a way that only a bot who couldn’t give them could, and took time to savor every one. A fact Cyclonus exploited to the fullest extent. 

      “Tailgate, are you sure you want to do this?” 

      “Do  _you_  want to do this?” Tailgate returned in a small voice. His hands came to cradle Cyclonus’ face, soothed by the way a pleasant rumble shook the neck cables he could feel. 

      “Yes.” 

      The collision of Tailgate’s head with his neck pulled another rumble from the back of his throat and Cyclonus wrapped his minibot into another hug. It was good to know for certain that they were ready for whatever would come next, and that they went on the journey together. 

**Author's Note:**

> B) ive dug myself a hole in a garden of Only Sappy Fics and im not going to be able to climb out again  
> also hi i love writing cyclonus i love making everthing 10x more dramatic and introspective than it needs to be


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